Life After Death
by Lucky Shamrock
Summary: For everyone that has ever dreamed of the impossible. For everyone that has ever wanted to be needed. For everyone that dies, another life is begun.
1. Dying

**Life After Death**

**Written By: **LuckyShamrock

**Summery:** For everyone that has ever dreamed of the impossible. For everyone that has ever wanted to be needed. For everyone that dies, another life is begun.

**Timeline:** Set after OotP, in the beginning of the trio's sixth year.

**Pairings:** None as of yet.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, do you really think I'd be writing this?

**Rating: **PG-13 for Violence.

**AN:** Let's start here and let you know that this is an Original Character fan fiction. I don't want to hear any flames about this. If you don't like Original Character's then don't read this. You won't get me to stop writing about an OC by leaving a mean review. Also I'd let you know Other then that, I pretty much have nothing else to say, except for those of you that do enjoy this little story of mine, please leave a review it's nice to know people are reading this.

Also, for those of you reading my other HP fic...I know I should be working on that right now. I really do. But for some reason my muse has left me on that one. I do intend on finishing it sometime, I just need to let my muse kick it into gear.

* * *

I had no intention of dying. I mean, I knew it would happen sooner or later it does to everyone. But I had no intention of dying when I was only sixteen. I don't think anyone has the intention to die that young, but I did. It wasn't pleasant, let me tell you. Ever since I was little and I realized that one day, I would die, and I wouldn't be here anymore I've been afraid of it. I suppose everyone is at some point. Just the whole idea of dying, and just blinking out of existence scared me. Let me tell you, it didn't happen that way.

Because I still exist.

I don't think this was supposed to happen, I honestly don't. It did. You see, I was driving home from school one afternoon. I hate driving, but it's either drive or ride the bus home, and I loathed the bus. So driving it was, an old beater of a car that I got from a neighbor for five hundred dollars. I wasn't far from home when it happened, a cat ran out into the middle of the road.

We're told not to jerk the car to the side to avoid hitting an animal, because you could die because of it. Too bad, that I didn't listen when told that. I couldn't hit a cat. I had a cat at home. Sure she was a mean and evil cat that liked to bite my feet and steal the covers, but I had a cat nonetheless. Which is why I couldn't hit the cat that ran out into the road, because that cat was someone's pet.

So it was pretty much thoughtless when my hands jerked the steering wheel to the side. This of course would be the dumbest action of my life. Because my car was so old, and because of such sudden turning, going at the speed I was, the car flipped.

Not once.

Not twice.

Three times it flipped, rolling down the road (I'm pretty sure that if that cat didn't move I killed it, so my death was pretty much for nothing) I might have had a seatbelt on, but that didn't protect me from all the jerking around, the windows breaking, the steering wheel being shoved into my chest.

I had never felt something so painful in all of my life. I mean it too. I thought that getting a knot in my hair and brushing it out was painful, or a paper cut was painful. Nothing compared to the feeling of those few seconds. I didn't know what was going on when the car flipped. It was one of those moments in time where when the world finally slows down, and the car stopped flipping (leaving me upside down) I could only whimper.

There was so much pain! You don't understand how painful it was. Even I can't understand how painful it was. I was screaming, mind you they were muffled screams, because I was choking on my own blood. I knew, I knew I was going to die.

People who had blood bubbling out of their mouths always died in movies, so I was pretty sure I would die. At that moment, with that pain…I wanted to die.

However, I was scared to die. Remember? Scared. I didn't want to blink out of existence, suddenly be alive and well, then the next be dead. My parents would have cops show up at the door to tell them their only daughter died. My funeral would be attended by close family members and friends. But as the wounds healed, they wouldn't remember me. I mean, they'd feel bad, they'd think of me…but I would be in the ground slowly turning to dust, and they would be alive.

I could feel the blood run down my face, down my neck, and make me feel more uncomfortable then I already was. It hurt to breath, and it was hard to breath at that. There were spots in my vision when I blinked. It was then, on the brink of death when I remembered a discussion a few weeks back in my Philosophy class. What happens when you die? Where do you go?

Someone answered surprisingly well for a seventeen year old. She thought that when we died, we went where we thought we would go. In her case when she died she would be going to a tropical island filled with cabana boys with six pack abs that worshipped her.

It was at this point I started a mantra of words in my head, as I started to feel heavy…as if something was pushing down on me. Kind of like when your on the brink of sleep, and your limbs feel as if they can't move.

Go somewhere that I'm needed. Go somewhere that I can have friends (because I was pretty much a loner here). Go somewhere where I feel whole.

That's what I thought. Pretty lame huh? Well, I was on the brink of death! What did you expect? I couldn't really bring myself to visualize some fantastic paradise. I wouldn't want paradise. I'd just want to live. I wanted friends. I mean, I had friends here, well one friend actually named Courtney who is overly active and always trying to get the school-board to let her play football and basketball with the boys. But I wanted friends, that I could just…

Dying is a lot like falling asleep. I could hear the occasional bird chirp in the distance, it was hard to breath. Like breathing with pudding in your throat. It felt uncomfortable. I had long sense started to be numb to the pain. I knew it was there, I felt it, but I just…couldn't do anything about it.

I could hear an oncoming car, the road I was on was pretty out in the middle of nowhere so I was surprised to even hear another car. It was slowing down, so was my beating heart I noticed. It had raced up during the flipping, so much so that I could feel it…I couldn't feel it that well anymore. I tried to breath…

And my eyes closed, and I was dead.

I don't know how long there was nothing. It's hard to explain, but you know how it is when you sleep and don't have any dreams? That's how this felt. There was nothing, and I wasn't aware there was nothing. I wasn't aware that I had suddenly started to fall down something akin to a giant black hole. I wasn't aware that when the hole finally stopped I was in the sky, which was teaming with energy, swirling with different colours that shouldn't be in the sky.

I wasn't aware that I was rapidly falling to the ground, my body still covered in blood, my fall causing onlookers to point up from where they sat around the grounds. Some were reading, some were playing games, others were just out on a beautiful day.

Nor was I aware that I had drawn the attention to a man that was clad in purple robes, and a long white beard that looked as if it could be tucked into his belt. I didn't know that this man was the one that stopped me from dying as I hit the ground. I didn't know that I was being brought into a school of magic which was a castle in Scotland (far away from my native Michigan)

And I didn't know that magic from a medi-witch in the school's hospital wing saved me from dying again.


	2. Waking

**AN:** For a moment this fic was being posted under my other name EccentricDucky, so if you noticed that...well uh, that's why. A bit of confusion under which name it would be.

To those of you that reviewed (sadly they aren't showing up now because of the deleting, reposting, deleting, reposting I did) Thanks! I'm very glad that some of you are enjoying this.

* * *

I was shocked that I woke up. I honestly thought that I would never see the light of day again. Actually it wasn't really day when I woke up. It was dim, as if the sun was just setting, or maybe even rising. My eyes took their damned time to adjust, and for a moment my chest strained with pain. My head was throbbing, the kind of headache that hurt if you moved your head just right. So I was intent in laying in that bed I was in for as long as I could before moving.

All things considered I knew I wasn't at home, so I must have been in the hospital. I had to be in the hospital. I wondered if I should sit up to look around and see if there was a nurse or something around, when something clicked.

The ceiling looked strange. Stone.

Hospitals weren't made of stone. At least not in this day and age. I think this is when I really started to freak out. I mean, if I was in a hospital then I was fine, that meant I was alive, and by some grace of God managed to live through the accident. It meant that my parents would be somewhere nearby no doubt, and I'd be in trouble for wreaking my car—but at least I'd be alive. Some weird stone ceiling meant something weird was going on. I was probably dreaming something odd, maybe I was dead, and this was my afterlife? Maybe some hospitals really did have stone ceilings?

I didn't want to move to look around. My eyes kept looking straight ahead, upwards towards the stone ceiling above me. I felt like crying, and I was too—I could feel the wetness of tears drip down the sides of my face. Silent tears. I was scared.

People in general are never truly in pain at any point in their life, nor are they truly scared. For the most part our biggest pains are a broken arm (or something of the like) and our biggest fears are getting a F on that English exam. I'd really like for it to be that way now…but it isn't.

I was in pain, true pain. Now it was just throbbing, but still I knew true pain. I also knew fear now, fear of dying, fear of being some place I'm not supposed to. Fear of what is yet to come.

I don't want to be a baby about things. I really don't. I wish I could be strong. I wish I could have taken that pain without screaming, I wish I wasn't crying now. But, I was scared. I don't like being scared.

So I lay there, not knowing what was going on, not knowing where I was, and I really just only wanted…my parents. Yep, that's right I wanted to see my Mom's warm smile. I wanted to see my Dad's cocky grin. I wanted my hair to be ruffled and I wanted to be told "Everything's okay now kiddo."

I had a feeling I wouldn't get what I wanted.

I'm not sure how much time had passed, I was pretty busy feeling sorry for myself, crying, and trying not to think about the situation at hand too much (let me tell you, that whole not thinking of the situation…hard to do).

"Oh, your up." The voice came floating above my head somewhere, I didn't move to look at who was speaking, British. Well, I supposed it was better then hearing some deep dark voice that sounded as if it had been smoking for all eternity, welcoming me to the dark side.

I opened my mouth several times, and all that came out was a slight rasp before something was placed up to my lips, an order to drink came from the woman who I couldn't quite see. The liquid was freezing cold, I don't think I've ever felt something so cold, and it was foul tasting, I don't think I've ever tasted anything so bad (This was including my best friend and her peanut butter, mayo, cheese, and pickle sandwich) so it was pretty bad.

The good news was, that the throbbing started to stop near immediately, and I could get something other then a rasp from my mouth. "Where?"

The woman gave a thoughtful noise, as if she was trying to figure out what she should tell me. Or what she could tell me. After a moment when I thought she wasn't going to say anything she finally spoke in that clipped to-the-point voice of hers. "The hospital wing of course."

The hospital wing of what?

The answer of that was soon to be answered when what sounded like doors opening and closing filled the room. "I see our guest has awakened. Poppy if you please, I'd like to speak with her alone."

His voice was calm, gentle, and slightly old-man voice. I should know because he sounded like both of my Grandfathers. I was put at ease, at least enough to know that he was well…like I said, grandfatherly. Least voice wise, I didn't get a chance to see him since I was intent on looking straight up.

"Hullo dear." He told me, as I heard him dragging a chair to sit next to my bed with. I knew I should move my head, look at him, see who he was—but I was scared.

"H-hi."

"How are you feeling?"

How was I feeling? Scared. But I'm sure he meant more along the lines of, now that you aren't gushing blood from everywhere—how are you feeling. "A litt—little sore."

He made a noise, as if making a note to remind himself later of what I just said. For a few moments he was silent, and one of my hands played with the sheet that was laying over me.

"What's your name dear?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, he didn't know my name. That meant that I wasn't in a hospital, at least not one where I was supposed to be. So far two British accents, and a stone ceiling, well it made one assume certain things. It also made me assume that no one found my backpack that had my student ID in it.

"G-grace Wilson, sir." Sir seemed like a good thing to add on to the end of that statement. This man (or voice rather) struck me as a sir. As someone not to be messed with, as someone you shouldn't lie to.

"Wonderful name Miss. Wilson. I'm afraid I must ask, how did you get in such an injured state?"

I frowned, that was something I really didn't want to answer. Why didn't he know? Didn't they find me in my car? Wouldn't it have been obvious that I had bee in a car accident? I found it strange and more so scary that he didn't know that. Maybe someone brought me here? Then that someone didn't explain what happened?

Yeah, that must have been it.

"Car ac-accident." I really hope he didn't ask me exactly what happened in the car accident, I didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about the flipping, didn't want to think about the pain, how the blood felt…

"Oh." Was his simple response, and for a few seconds things were quiet again. I could barely hear something in the distance…an owl hooting maybe? And pondered over this while I lay there in silence.

It was now when I would find out where I was, and it was someplace I never would have thought possible. I mean, I must be in some sort of coma or something and this was all a dream, because the next words out of his mouth were as follows: "Well, I'm sure your wondering where you are?" Yep, I was. "You my dear, are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

I squeaked, I mean I actually squeaked, and bolted right up in my bed.

Pain.

Followed with sudden dread.

I had gone insane.

I had to of.

I mean…Hogwarts?

I knew what Hogwarts was. I'm not daft. I read the Harry Potter books. I wasn't obsessed with them like some people sure, but I did read them over a few times just because I'm a bookworm. Which is why I got up so suddenly, because things were starting to click.

Poppy, the nurse was Madam Pomfrey, and the voice of the grandfatherly-type I was hearing would of course be Albus Dumbledore.

He looked rather alarmed when I shot up in such a manor. And let me tell you, I knew why I didn't get up when I first woke up. It HURT. My chest, my stomach, oh God it all hurt. That throbbing from before? Yeah, it came back full force.

While he looked alarmed sitting there in elegant purple robes, and a cap much akin to the one he wore in the third movie, he did speak calm. "I take it, you've heard of Hogwarts then?"

What should I say to that? What should I tell a fictional character? Should I tell him that yeah, I heard of Hogwarts…it's a fictional place in a book I've read? I didn't know what to do. The throbbing was getting more and more vicious. Like a stabbing at my side. I thought menstrual cramps were bad? This was ten million times worse.

He watched me carefully.

Damn it. Wasn't Dumbledore supposed to be an all knowing Yoda or something?

So I told him, I told him everything.

Then, I passed out.


End file.
